


The Undiscovered Country

by OhMyGodBecky



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen, Love, Smut, au-ish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-05 09:32:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3115082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhMyGodBecky/pseuds/OhMyGodBecky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This takes place immediately following the events of episode 3x09, Oliver POV.</p><p>"Oliver awoke to the fluttering of curtains on a breeze and the surrounding glow of early morning light. He shivered slightly. The room was warm but he had the feeling one gets after having just come in from the cold."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All my love and thanks to blackeyedgurl for all the advice, encouragement and hand holding!!
> 
> This is my first time dipping my toes into the waters of multiple chapter fic. This should be complete prior to the show returning on 01/21/15.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading and all feedback welcome!!

Oliver awoke to the fluttering of curtains on a breeze and the surrounding glow of early morning light. He shivered slightly. The room was warm but he had the feeling one gets after having just come in from the cold.

 _Must have been a dream._ He shook off the feeling and blinked into the diffused sunlight. The feeling of cold persisted. _Some dream._ A slight movement on the mattress next to him drew his attention. 

His heart kicked up pace inexplicably as he shifted his body toward the movement. He lifted his head enough to slide it so he was facing the opposite direction and sank back into his pillow. 

_Her._

She slept curled on her side facing him, her face relaxed in sleep. _Perchance to dream._ Once again, he felt the cold slither up his spine. He didn’t think before he reached out and shifted position, his arm snagged around her waist and brought her body flush to his. 

He couldn’t explain it, but it felt like he hadn’t seen or touched her in a lifetime. His chest hurt with it, the feeling so palpable, so razor sharp and real. 

Her sleepy eyes blinked twice before they settled closed again as she murmured something unintelligible. Oliver was only able to pick out the words “sleep” and “strangle”. The cold receded as a laugh escaped his lips. 

Threats be damned, he needed her. _Now._

He brushed her hair back as he ran his hand down her back. As it rounded over her ass, her soft full curve filled his palm. _Damn._ He felt himself stiffen in response. His mouth found her skin as he resettled them at an angle that gave him access to her neck.

“Oliver,” she said on a breathy whisper, her hands had already begun to roam his plains. 

“Good morning.” He said into her ear with a voice that still held a graveled edge from sleep. There was something else in his voice though, something other than just morning chasing the night away. There was urgency hiding in there as well. He didn’t know if she caught it as she scratched her fingers down his scalp but he knew it was there all the same.

“I missed you.” He whispered into the hollow of her neck. Her leg wound around his as his lips found the top of her breasts. He balanced his weight on an elbow freeing his other arm to hook into the bottom of her tank top and tug upwards. 

A groan escaped her lips as she wiggled to get the tank off and brought her hips into contact with his. He ground into her again to repeat the sensation. _Fuck._

They moved together, pushing and pulling. Lips and tongues stroking, clashing. Building a frenzied fire. Clothes were quickly shed and bodies entangled. _Slow down._

He raised his head to find her eyes. His whole life rested in the light of those blue orbs. When stripped bare everything he had ever desired in this life could be found there. _Home._ A grin played over his lips as she glared up at him in frustration at his slowed pace.

Her hands slid down his sides, her thumbs dipped into that place on his pelvis that she had once sworn to him was a holy location. “To be worshiped,” she had declared with reverence. 

The feel of her fingers marching their way lower left him struggling to keep up the ruse. He loved it when she pushed him, when he could see the desire bubble to her surface and spread through her like waves. 

He felt her hand slide down his length. _Thank God._ A breath rushed from his lungs as he closed his eyes wanting to focus on the feel of her hand on him. _Only this exists. This makes me whole. This makes me real._ The thought brought his eyes open and wide. _Where did that come from?_

“Hey, you okay?” She said catching his startled look. 

He covered quickly nodding and flashing her a grin, “Never better.” 

His tongue found her nipple as she increased the speed of her stroke. He ran his tongue around the pink edge loving the sound of her moan.

“Please, Oliver.” She said as his fingers laid siege on her. Working into her until she began to quake beneath him.

“Enough.” He whispered in her ear and shifted until their bodies aligned. She drew her knees high and dug her heels into the small of his back. 

He dipped his forehead until it met hers, eyes holding her gaze as his hips pivoted, gliding him into her heat. _She is remarkable._ He blinked his eyes at the thought. It felt important somehow. Familiar. _Move._

Her hips tilted as her legs tightened into his sides like vice grips. They had played too long and both were nearing surrender. He found her lips again and groaned into her mouth as she tugged his hair. Her back arched off the mattress shifting their angle and he clenched his fists into the bunched sheets as a thousand sensations rampaged through his body. 

He felt her chest rise against his as she sucked in a breath and stilled until her body convulsed under him in a shudder as his name tumbled from her lips. Her face relaxed into bliss and he didn’t even try to fight joining her. The release barreled through him as he thrust to completion. Tiny pins of light bounced around his vision. _I love you._

“I love you.” The words in his head escaped his lips as he panted into her neck. With the words though returned the cold. The chill riding through his veins like ice water. _The fuck?_ He had told her he loved her millions of times.

But when her echoed response of “I love you too.” found his ears he felt panic claw out of the cold in his veins and take root in his chest.


	2. Chapter 2

“LIVE OLIVER.”

He heard the words through a sleepy fog and tried to make sense of his surroundings. 

“Liv! Oliver!” 

He heard her clearly this time. _Liv. Not Live._ He realized the mistake as he recognized the tiny weight of their daughter burrowed into his side.

“Seriously, people will be here any minute and I’ve got four pots on the stove that are very likely boiling over into a combined nightmare, like some sort of origin story for a bad sci-fi monster and you two are-“ the words cut short on her lips as he interrupted her ramble.

“Felicity,” he said doing his level best not to laugh. With extreme effort, he held the laugh back, but not the grin, “it will be fine.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him giving him a smirk in return and shrugged. “Oookay.” her expression lightened as she turned and began to swiftly exit the room tossing the words, “You’re on hair patrol then.” over her shoulder just as she made her escape. 

_Evil woman._

The tiny weight next to him sprung into action at that. “NO. Noooooo.” she whined as she twisted and shuffled until she positioned herself so that she was straddling his back. He had learned long ago to sleep on his stomach when her little kicking feet were in his vicinity. 

“I brushed it already, Daddy. I’m good, I don’t need help.” she said as she bounced herself up and down. 

He sighed. Some men had daughters who loved all things hair related. Beautiful little preening girls with heads full of shiny combed hair who sat still. Who didn’t squawk and howl at merely the suggestion of fixing their hair. 

“Tell me about your scar, Daddy.” she said in a bid to change the subject. He felt her fingers run along the slightly puckered line that curved over his left shoulder blade. His stomach tightened at the word. _Scars._ But no, that wasn’t right. _One scar._

“Your boat crashed with Grandpa,” her small voice delivering what felt like a physical blow. 

His mouth went dry as the sound of twisting metal and exploding glass reverberated through him, as he felt the frigid rushing water pull him under. 

“Mommy says you were a hero.” she finished.

_Hero._ Another scene played in his head. _Felicity’s earnest eyes shinning with pride reflecting into his as he asked “How do I look?”_

_“Like a hero.” she replied, her voice steady, confident. Her eyes were exactly the same and yet, the emotion they held was something else._

He was captivated by the imagined reel as it played over and over in his mind. A longing to touch her blossomed in his chest. His fingers twitched with the need to reach out and cup her face, to feel the weight of her as she leaned into his hand. He shook his head causing the scene to retreat and he missed it, missed her, instantly. His eyes glassed over even as he tried to right his world with movement. 

He brought himself up on his elbows and tilted his hips causing the child on his back to slump off onto the blankets next to him. She popped up, scurried for the edge of the bed and slid down the side. As soon as her feet met carpet, she made a break for it. Quick as she was she wasn’t fast enough for an escape. _Yet._

Oliver tried not to even think about what it would be like when she began employing actual evasion tactics to do the kinds of things he had done as a teenager. It was one thing to imagine how great a child with a genius IQ would be but it was a wholly humbling experience to be outsmarted on a regular basis by your five year old. 

“Meghan Olivia Queen.” He used his ‘I mean business’ voice to stop the child in her tracks. 

No matter the frequency of use, her full name never failed to conjure up that moment. That moment when two terrified parents huddled together over the light of an incubator housing their baby. Their daughter, who was born at twenty-eight weeks with underdeveloped lungs and a birth weight that hadn’t even sounded real to Oliver. Such was their grief and terror as the doctors explained her survival odds that they had forgotten whatever name they had spent hours carefully crafting and instead gave her their own. It had been the only thing they knew to give her in the way of strength, a part of themselves so she would know she was not alone. So she would know they loved her.

Her shoulders slumped and as she turned to face him. He studied her face for a moment as she stood as still as her energetic little body would allow. Her long blonde hair hung loose in a messy tangle down her back. She had his exact eyes and pink tinted cheeks in combination with Felicity’s pouty lips and stubborn chin. 

He let her fidget for a beat longer before he said with a smile, “Bring me the brush, please.”

She nodded her head in an exasperated response and began to turn away before she stopped herself mid-turn and rounded to face him again. “Does it hurt when you die?” she asked as she tilted her head ever so slightly. Her face giving away nothing of her question’s intent. 

_Yes._

The word rang in his head like a bell and he nearly staggered backward at the enormity of it. The cold from earlier bloomed pain in his chest and side. He huffed out a breath to steady himself and met her eyes, “I’m not sure.” he replied. The lie tasted like ash as he swallowed back the rising bile in his throat. His daughter nodded only once and hurried from the room.

* * *

Oliver combed through his memories of the previous day as he flipped on the shower and began undressing. _Something._ He had to have done something to bring this on. Whatever this is. Nothing had felt right from the moment he had opened his eyes that morning. He could find nothing in the day before that was even eventful much less enough to make him feel like, _this_.

He ran his hands through his hair and stared into his own eyes as they reflected back at him in the bathroom mirror. A great divide expanded between him and the man before him, a disconnect. The reflection slowly morphed as he allowed his eyes to relax, to blur ever so slightly. A new man emerged from the blur. His hands shook as he took note of the scars that adorned the mirror man’s chest. _Scars._ The urge to smash the glass settled in his belly and his knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the sink. 

Steam rolled out from the running shower and the fog began to swallow the reflection. The image faded but the feeling held him like a vice. _Grief._ The sense of loss was so acute that it held him suspended, frozen. His nostrils flared and his chest ached as he tried to even out his breathing, to steady himself. He pushed away from the sink and yanked the drawstring on his pajama bottoms letting the material pool at his feet.

He tugged open the shower door and stepped inside with the hope that the screaming temperature would force back the ice he felt flowing through his veins. It didn’t, as if the heat from the water could only bounce off his surface, never reach his core. In an act of frustration he snapped the lid off the shampoo bottle causing the liquid to pour over the side. He watched as the suds quickly took form and then dissolved as they circled the drain. _Does it hurt when you die?_


	3. Chapter 3

The smell of coffee and his mother-in-law’s perfume hit him as he took the stairs two at a time clad in a black t-shirt and jeans. “Oliver!” Donna Smoak exclaimed as she launched herself into his arms just as he cleared the last step. She squeezed him tightly and whispered into his ear, “Remember how I told you last year that I was never doing this again?”

He nodded into her hair and added an, “Mmm hmp.” in answer.

“I meant to say that I that was never doing this again sober.” She pulled away from him and gave him a grin as she looked pointedly at her purse slung over the bannister. “Have flask, will travel.” she said low enough for only him to hear. 

He barked out a laugh at that. For whatever mother-daughter issues she and Felicity had at times he had always adored the woman. “Not before dinner…or without me.” he said as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. 

She rolled her eyes as she pulled away, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He took note of her entirely inappropriate dress as she walked away and felt at ease for the first time that day.

* * *

Oliver smiled as he looked around the chaos that was already starting to take shape in his home. Boxes that held all of their holiday decorations were scattered throughout the living room from where he had brought them down from the attic the day before. Felicity stood in the middle of the boxes, her mouth slightly pursed as she counted. 

Having finished her count on a slightly exasperated sigh she made her way over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist drawing his body to her’s as she tucked her head under his chin. “29 boxes, Oliver.” He felt her chuckle against his chest slightly. 

“Yeah, but some of them are small.” he replied with a chuckle of his own. It was a total lie, the smallest box he could see from here could have easily held their five year old daughter. 

“29 boxes for 6 years of holiday memories.” She smiled as she pulled back enough to meet his eyes, “I had no idea the monster I was creating that first year. We’re going to have to move if we keep going at this rate.” Her words were harassed but her tone and eyes gave away her happiness. 

That first year they were married Oliver had been unsure on how to handle the holiday situation. He loved Christmas. Loved everything about it and his new bride was Jewish. It hadn’t been an issue when they were dating, he had a Christmas tree at his place and she had a menorah at hers. A shared home was different though and he hadn’t wanted to force his Christmas stuff on her so he hadn’t bought a tree or put any lights up. She hadn’t said a word about it but instead on the morning of the second Saturday in December he found himself being sent off to the grocery for a gallon of milk. He came home to find those closest to them gathered to surprise him with an enormous Christmas tree and a few boxes of starter decorations. She had orchestrated the whole thing. It had been a nearly perfect day and born from it a yearly tradition.

He threaded her fingers through his and gently kissed her. “Thank you,” he said as he peppered her neck with kisses, “for today, for all our days.”

She shifted so their foreheads met, “It’s _your_ day.” Her voice took on a quality that he couldn’t quite place. _Serious. Urgent._ She pulled away slightly and her eyes searched his face as she continued, “Make it whatever you need it to be.” She pulled in a breath and brought her eyes to his and asked, “Do you understand?”

Something deep in Oliver’s chest shifted and a familiar ache made it’s way to his surface. He did understand. He understood in a thousand ways the fleeting nature of everything. That this life, this day, held a larger significance. He couldn’t have explained it but he knew in that instant that he was losing something by even being here, there was a price being paid somewhere else. He held her gaze and returned it with a matching intensity. He felt her right hand slip to rest above his hip as her left hand came to rest on his abdomen, below his pectoral muscle. It hurt and it soothed. He felt the prick of tears behind his eyes as he replied, “Yes.”

Her eyes slid closed for a moment, and her fingers curled ever so slightly into his skin. Her long blonde locks hung in loose curls around her face, his fingers sought out a curl and gently tugged. Felicity’s eyes reopened, now pooled with tears of her own. “Oliver.” she said with a voice that trembled.

He shook his head and captured an escaped tear as it rolled down her cheek with his thumb.

Words caught in his throat, he wanted to reassure her, but as the world around him came into sharper focus he found he couldn’t.


End file.
